Sly and Elusive
by MerciMonAmi
Summary: Foxface was a tribute filled with secrets. She was sly. She was elusive. This is from her POV, as she tells her story from life in District Five all the way to the Hunger Games.
1. I Am Broken

**Oh gosh! A new story! This one I hope to go all the way with from the beginning all through the Hunger Games. Foxface was always one of my favorites. I always thought there was so much more to her and she had so much depth. So after chatting with Jackie, who played her, I got some details on the character.. and now here it is. So, enjoy.**

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Sly and Elusive

When I walk down the streets of District 5, it's cold. But not breathtakingly cold, just a faint, hardening chill that was carried along with the wind and crept up your sleeve and to your spine. But it was enough to remind you to stay aware and keep you on your toes. It was the one little voice that reminded me to look over my shoulder every so often.

My worn, leather shoes scraped against the rough cement ground that covered the majority of District 5. We were energy. Power. Because of this, our district was packed with buildings and factories that caused the air to reek. The water- if you could get it- always had a metallic taste. But I did not choose my District. I had been born here fourteen years ago. If I could choose what place to live, I would like to be somewhere like District 4. Where instead of having my feet against metal they could sift through the sand and water could trickle onto my toes. A place where I could be free, free from all of this. Free from this hell.

My red hair was messier than it normally was. On a regular day, it would be smooth and sleek, falling over my back in the simple straight style I usually wore it in. But this time the ends were frizzed, a stray lock fallen over my face. And my worn shirt was slightly sideways, messy, wet- not from the amounts of rain we normally get, but from my own sweat. I was breathing hard.

I looked up into the sky once, and it was gray. The normal weather for a reaping like today. Unfortunately for me, I was running late home from my "work." I doubt I could ready myself up in time and make myself look presentable for the reaping. The reaping. Just the thought of it sent shivers up my spine.

Every year, a girl and boy from each of the twelve districts are given up to compete in the Hunger Games. They are reaped from a bowl where their names lay, some in once, some over forty based off of their age or if they take tesserae. I was in there more times then I needed to, since I took tesserae for myself, my father, and my brother. My poor brother… he was only seven, too young to exactly know what was going on in the games or understand the evil behind them. All he knew was love and hunger. Hunger was something my family felt often here in District 5. Even though we didn't get the worst of the districts, we were poor- extremely poor. And living wasn't easy.

Suddenly, I tripped over a slab of cement that stuck up farther than the others. A faint scream escaped my mouth as I toppled over onto my hands, which didn't end up breaking my fall. Instead, I slid forward and I could feel my knees and hands become rubbed raw from the impact. I groaned, turning myself over onto my back. A few other people were walking on the same path as me, and they walked around me, not bothering to help. This was how things normally went. Nobody minded me… Sparrow Kenvarra. The fourteen year old whore.

It was, after all, the only way I could support my family. My mother had passed away three years ago. After that, my father went mad. He hit me. Quit his job in the factories. My limbs would always be bruised from him. So, I scavenged up until I was twelve. Then I could take tesserae. But that wasn't enough. I was… pretty. I was a nice height with long legs and unusual red hair that seemed to catch people's eye. I hated this, but at the same time it got me work. I was too young to work in the factories. So when I was thirteen… only thirteen… I was forced to make money for my family by selling myself to the wealthy men's beds.

And it broke me.

I lifted myself from the ground finally, and that was when I realized my skirt had torn. This could be a problem, since acquiring clothes wasn't the easiest when food was my priority. I messed with it a little before setting off at a jog towards my home on the southern end of town. That is where the poor citizens of district five lived. My house was towards the front, not too deep in. But that was good. Because today, I knew I had to rush if I wanted to make it in time for the reaping. If I didn't… the peacekeepers would surely punish me.

After five minutes of racing along the town streets, my house came into view. House is actually an overstatement. It was really a metal shack that had two rooms in total, a kitchen and the room where we all sleep. The door was coming off the hinges and wasn't completely closed, so I slipped through the crack to get inside. Straight away, I saw that my brother was asleep on the floor but my father was in the kitchen. With a cup in hand. Right away, I knew it was probably alcohol. But I wasn't mad at him for drinking. I was mad because he probably spent the money I earned on it.

"You're home." My father grunted. He turned around, biting his lip as he took another sip from the tin cup. "Do you… you… have any money?"

It was clear to tell he was drunk. If he was very drunk… I could probably lay him down and he could fall asleep and leave me alone. But if he was only a little drunk, that just made him worse. It made everything worse, and I would pay for it. And along the years, I learned to be quiet. I spoke less and less. Because when I spoke to my father, he would find something wrong in it and hit me some more. If I spoke my mind, someone would disagree and take their anger out on me. And from having to sacrifice myself for the sake of my little brother… it broke me. And before I knew it, I hardly spoke at all.

I looked into my father with my crystal blue eyes. I had a pocketful of change, but I would not let him have it. He would probably spend it on more alcohol, but we needed it for food. So I backed up a step, possibly backing from a fight. But my father's lip curled up into a smile, and with a startling bang he hurled the tin up into the ground. My little brother, Flint, awoke with a start and instantly cried out. This was not good.

"You do have money, don't you, S-Sparrow?" My father hissed, walking towards me. "Give it here… I have… have stuff to pay for."

I shook my head. And instantly, my father's face dropped. He froze. That was the second he realized he would not get his way. And the second I realized this would not be easy for me. All I wished was that I could ready for the reaping… get there on time… now I doubted it.

And suddenly, my father lunged forward and attempted to grab at me, I ducked under him easily, expecting the blow. But what I didn't expect was him suddenly kicking out to intersect my skillful maneuver. His foot caught mine, and for the second time that day, I fell forward and hit the ground with a thud. It winded me, and all the air escaped my chest. I coughed once, and I heard Flint wail. He didn't need to see this! Tears stung my eyes as my father's hands suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up. His hand reached into the pocket on my skirt, and the few, but vital amounts of change I had made were suddenly in his grasp. I groaned, reaching one of my raw hands to my elbow that had begun to bleed. I looked to the earth. I was ultimately nothing.

"Now get ready for the… the reaping." My father spat at me. "Maybe I can get lucky and you'll be picked this year."

And honestly, I never worried about getting picked. Mainly because my mind was on bigger things to me like making sure my family was fed and my brother was ok. But I shrugged off my father's comment. Everything would be easier if I was dead. I wouldn't have to live in my hell anymore. But at the same time, I know I have to stay here for my brother to help him. But even If I was reaped, even though the chances are so, so slim, I know I would die. Because of my father. Because I know what its like to be hurt.

And because of this, I could never even hurt a fly.


	2. The Reaping

**Yay! Part two! I am warning though, I wrote this so poorly I nearly rewrote it. But it introduces Sparrow's antics. Her wits. So... here is the reaping!**

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Sly and Elusive

I did end up running late for the reaping, just as I figured. But not so badly that Peacekeepers came looking for me. I just happened to be one of the last people to walk forward and get a small sample of blood taken from my finger and rubbed onto a sheet of paper. Where they wrote down everything. Name, age, and if you took tesserae. I of course did, bringing my total to, if I wasn't mistaken, twelve times in the giant fishbowl all the names went in.

I was wearing an old something of my mother's, a faded green dress that brought out the redness in my hair. I tied a little bow in front, reminding myself of youth and after all, I was only fourteen. Flint was wearing a blue buttoned shirt and was standing back with my father, since of course, the seven year old boy was too young to be reaped. He had another five years. But I didn't trust my father with him, and I kept glancing back to make sure he was still there with a toothless grin.

I remembered the conversation I had with him not ten minutes ago. I hadn't said a word in nearly two days, but I broke that for Flint's sake. "If I get chosen, hide the alcohol." I had said to the little boy. He didn't exactly understand, but Flint had nodded and that was the moment when he grabbed my spindly hand. Just for a second. Just a small amount of contact, but it was enough to bring an aching in my stomach. He was so young, and so confused. But I prayed he would understand. However, I doubted I would be chosen. Other people's names were in there more than me and District 5 was a heavily populated district.

Stepping forward, I made my way to the sectioned off area where the fourteen year olds are asked to go. I threw a glance over my shoulder, but Flint and my father were too far out from my view and I was unable to see them. My head dropped, blinking softly a few times as I awaited for this to end. I wanted to get home, sit myself on my bed and be able to look to my side and see Flint sleeping softly.

I looked up and noticed that the escort of District 5, and the person who reaped the children, had arrived. His name was Favian Falsett, and he had the same job all the years I attended the reaping. He seemed to be going in the same green theme I had going. His sleek hair was gelled backwards and was dyed a color that reminded me of leaves during the spring. He wore a snazzy, tightly fitted suit that was a darker shade of green with golden buttons. His pants were white, but he sported light green boots that leveled it all out. And the worst- he had this giant grin as if it was a happy celebration we were all attending. As if.

I the noticed the mayor and a woman I didn't recognize sat themselves down in two of three chairs to the right of the stage. Favian followed, but as he sat down, the mayor rose. He was an aging man, wrinkles clearly showing as he sported salt and pepper hair. Unlike Favian, he wore a simple gray suit and for the most part appeared ordinary.

He took the stage, and instantly began to read off everything we heard every year. The reason we were in the games. It was the history of our land called Panem, and he went from life before the war, what brought us apart, all the way up to the point where he brought up the games. In the Hunger Games, it's a fight to the death. In the end, only one tribute remains and they are crowned victor. In District 5, we've had four, but only two are still alive. Their names were Cecilia and Woof, but Woof was so old he almost didn't count. And before I know it, the major starts reading off the names, but I'm distracted because two girls in front of me are babbling and have been the entire time.

Their voices aren't hard to pick up. They're your typical wealthy district girls who have never lived one day hungry in their entire lives. Their voices are high pitched, and so, so easy to hear in the silence that was going on across the stage. One of them was a tall blonde, the other a shorter girl with a plumper body who had rusty hair.

"I bet you the tailor's boy is gonna get picked this year." The short girl hissed to the blonde. "He's eighteen… and the business hasn't been doing too well, so he's got tesserae."

"Maybe." The blonde said with a shrug. "But wanna know who I hope is gonna get picked? That whore, Sparrow. She's a disgrace to District 5. She needs to get out."

The words stung me in the back of my throat, and I looked away. I was… commonly talked about from around the district. I was like some sort of disease. But people did like me when my mother was alive. Mainly because she was such a cheerful person, and lit up every room she walked into. And she had the same bright red hair that I had. But after she left, and I did what I had to do, that was when people began looking down on me.

"Let me tell you, now that she's raising her brother, he's gonna grow up just like her. Making bad decisions. I tell you…" The blonde went on again. But that was it for me.

I clenched my teeth together. I didn't lie when I said I could never hurt a fly. Instead… I prefer wits. Thinking things out. And right now, this good for nothing rich snob was annoying me. For a few seconds I pondered, but then reached a hand forward. She was wearing a tight, white dress that was held together in front by two pieces of ribbon that were tied together. Perfect.

My hands clawed air for the first few seconds, but then they closed around the ribbons. I made sure not to move in any way that would alert the girl that I was behind her, so I moved slowly. My hands worked simply for a few seconds, but then I finished it off with a sharp tug. And suddenly, the blonde was shreaking as she suddenly grabbed her dress to prevent it from falling down.

She leaped forward, voice still hissing and spitting as she suddenly whirled around. Her perfectly carved finger pointed at me, and in a raspy voice full of hatred she yelled out, "YOU!"

She suddenly leaped forward, lunging at me. I didn't exactly mean to make a scene in the middle of the reaping… especially when this was being televised. But, I did cause her harm, so I guess I deserved whatever blow she used on me. I readied myself, but suddenly the girl froze and I could hear Favian yelling in the background.

"Uhm… excuse me?" He said into the microphone. "If you are that upset about our female tribute, then volunteer, otherwise, let our tribute onto the stage."

Everyone seemed to freeze, including myself. What? Was I so captivated into the conversation on front of me that I had completely missed them reading off the female tribute for this year? I must have. But it probably wasn't me, because everyone's eyes were darting around. That is, until the blonde girl let out one more yell and everyone looked in our direction. Straight at me. My cheeks turned nearly red as my hair, and I looked back at all the people, confused.

"Excuse me…" Favian said, obviously annoyed. "Will our female tribute please make way to the stage? I don't want to call the peacekeepers. Sparrow Kenvarra. Make your way to the stage…"

No.

It was me.

I was going to die.

My first reaction was surprise. Out of all the people… I did have a decent-sized amount of slips with my name on there… But me? There were so many more. I narrowed my eyes. It didn't make sense… Now I was going to die and my family… My family! Flint! What was Flint going to do?

With forced steps, I slowly made my way up to the stage. Everyone stared at me. They all knew who I was. All the kids were probably gracious to get rid of me, but not their fathers. I had to hold back my tears. If Flint saw me crying, he would cry too. He would think something bad was going on, and he would scream and kick and then surely my father would beat the boy to shut him out. So I looked out in the direction where I knew he was, and I could actually get a glimpse of the boy. From up on the stage. He just appeared… confused. His brow was furrowed, and my father had a tight grip on his shoulder. As long as it didn't get any tighter, that was ok.

"Lovely! Lovely! Our female tribute for District 5 in the 74th annual Hunger Games is Sparrow Kenvarra!" Favian called out. Nobody clapped, even though he probably expected them to. Once he realized this, his cheeks turned red and made his way over to the bowl for the boys.

Everything else was a bit of a blur. But he read off a name, one I didn't recognize at all. But my district partner was a boy named Ryker, a tan soul with dark hair, not the typical District 5 look. But I glanced at him, and instantly could tell tears were already stinging his eyes. But I stood tall. Strong. For both Flint… and my mother.

"Alright, shake your hands!" Favian said into the microphone, motioning me towards Ryker.

Emotionlessly, I reached out a hand and weakly brought Ryker's hand up and down. His palm was sweaty, and the stickiness of it made me want to recoil mine in disgust. But I forced myself to finish, gulping as I turned away and faced the crowd. They all looked at me with smirks, and that was the moment when everything seemed to go down for me. When I realized that people weren't exactly cheering for me to win… they were cheering for me to die.

When the ceremony was done, I turned away from the giant crowd so they couldn't see my face. That was when the first and only tear fell, and also when rain started to pour down. As my tear fell, I lost track of it in the raindrops. And I looked out to my side, then up, up into the skies as if they were weeping. But I felt like I knew what it was.

"I'm so sorry, mother." I whispered, shaking my head.

Now who would care for my family?

I couldn't when I'm dead.


	3. I Am Going Crazy

**Oh my gosh. This chapter is really awful! It was so rushed because I hadn't posted in a while. Anyway, this sort of introduces how Sparrow is on the inside... On the outside of course she's thought of as the sly Foxfaced girl but really on the inside... Well, you'll see. Enjoy!**

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Before long, I had been taken to a room in the Justice Building. I had never been in there before, or a room like for that matter. It was gorgeous. The floor was a shining silver, shedding off the effect and theme of our district- energy. There was a squishy and well-cushioned couch at the end of the room which was a pure white. The walls were a darker shade of gray, a sheen of metallic dust in them. I sighed, eyes glittering from the perfection of the entire room. But it irritated me. That the wealthier people could live in these perfect conditions while I eat a meal a day and do absolutely everything I could just to make sure my brother and I survived.

The peacekeeper told me people could come visit me, but it would be the last time. Probably the last time I would see them in my entire lifetime. So, I marched my way over to the couch and sat myself down quietly. My feet rested on the floor, my hands on my lap. I sighed once, blinking my eyes closed and trying to stop my nerves from twitching and causing me to come close to breaking down. In, out, in, out. I fought to regain the balance back in my body. But I had lacked the patience. SO after a minute of this, I curled around and looked outside. All I really could see through the blinds was rising factory smoke and some of the wealthier homes. Nothing I hadn't seen before.

I narrowed my eyes. If someone was going to visit me… then shouldn't they have gotten here by now? Surely my brother would find a way to come? But that was when I realized it. My father… his words as I was getting ready for the reaping.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and you'll get picked this year."

He got his wish… But no doubt, he wouldn't allow Flint to come. Flint probably didn't even know what was going on. He probably just thought I was going to be on TV or something for a few months then come right back home. He had no idea. Eventually, after waiting, he would start asking. Wondering where I was. And, of course, my father would tell him the blunt truth. And Flint would have to live with it. If he managed to survive at all without me.

Well, ok. I guess I wasn't going to have anyone come visit me. It wasn't like I had any friends. I didn't talk to other people in the first place, so they never spoke to me- only about me. Talking about me in their father's beds, that's what they would discuss.

Suddenly, I felt my eyes get glossy. In the fourteen years of my life, the first nine with my mom were wonderful… but now, I knew I would die never having completed anything or done anything worth calling home about. I would live and die as being nothing. Nothing at all… It all flooded me with such intense anger that I threw my dirty feet up on the perfectly clean couch and rubbed deep, brown scratches of dirt onto the soft white fabric. There. Good luck getting that out.

The door squeaked. I threw my feet from the couch, almost choking on my breath from the surprise of it all. Why… why would I get a visitor? But after the squeak of the door, nobody entered. There was no footsteps. Any hint that someone would be entering the room. I was about to turn back around and look out the window, but I heard a voice.

"You can win."

I whirled around. My head flashed right and left, deperate to see where the voice was coming from. But there was nobody in the room… but, that voice. It was so familiar! It echoed again and again in my head, until I suddenly knew. But… it was impossible. Because I knew that voice was my mother's.

Well, good. Ok. Nice to know I was already going crazy and the games haven't even begun. I hit myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand, knocking some sense back into myself. Ha… ha… Yeah right. Like I actually heard her.

"Sparrow, you can win…"

There it was again. My head shot up, eyes looking around the room. "Hello?" I called. I wouldn't say anything more. It didn't seem necessary.

"You can win. They don't know you. You know how to play this game."

Now I had lost it. I leapt from the couch onto the shiny gray floor and went into fetal position. My jaw was clenched, teeth rubbing. It wasn't actually her I was hearing… I knew this. It had to be myself. My mother was dead! I got up as tight as I could, wanting everything to end. I was crazy. This is a dream. This is all a dream.

And suddenly, I lost it. I had stayed strong for so long, but I broke. Tears sprang from my eyes, and my voice came out in long, pathetic moans. I hadn't remembered the last time I cried. I was probably when my mother died. That one day I heard the disease in her body that finished her off. I cried for days and days before never crying again. I had been strong for too long.

"Mother…" I cried. "Oh mother…"

I must have stayed in the same position, weeping and weeping for maybe five minutes before something struck me hard in the head. They don't know me. What my mother said was true. All they saw was a red-haired girl act a little surprised as she took the stage. And it was all a game. A game for the people, a game of survival for the kids. Well, now I understood.

They didn't know me yet

I was going to play this game.

This year, they wouldn't forget me.


End file.
